


Suits

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson is crazy about Skye, Coulson wearing jeans, Coulson working out to get Skye to check him out, F/M, Flirting, Kissing, Making Out, Missions, Not that much angst but a little, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Skye has spent a lot of time thinking about Coulson in his suits, Skye's name being a powerful thing, Suit as an armor, Suits, Teasing, Undressing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wanted to write something about Skye choosing to wear a suit to fit in as a SHIELD Agent and Coulson having a reaction to it, and also her using suit as armor and him not liking it when she does it.  Sort of a reversal of their situations.  It doesn't have any sex, just them getting hot and heavy, but this is as far as I got :).  I might write an epilogue where they're not wearing the suits later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suits

He heard them enter his office.

Footsteps clicking against the polished concrete surface, much like the sound his own shoes made.

It was late in the day, and he just wanted to finish the paperwork on this _one_ file.

Another suit.

Joining “real” SHIELD’s democracy had created a new mound of paperwork that painfully reminded him of the kind of bureaucracy he’d tried to escape when he restarted _this_ SHIELD.

But there was another _this_ , and that SHIELD had no problem with the red tape.  They still liked Levels.

He didn’t want it creeping back in, but he was too busy, between his hand, and the merger, and that other thing-

There wasn’t enough time, or the energy, to push back right now.

He stared down at the last form awaiting a signature in front of him.

The _last thing_ he wanted was another addition to his existing pile of-

It landed on his desk with a flop, and he looked up, irritated, expecting to meet the eyes of one of the administrative agents.

Instead, his eyebrows knotted together.

“You’re kidding, _right_?”

She was staring back down at him, dressed in a dark suit. With a tie.

The knot wasn’t that great, but, not really the point.

 _He_ felt underdressed.

It was late enough in the day that he wasn’t about to roll down his sleeves.

“Sir,” she said. “There are a few forms there that need your signature.”

There was a pause while he collected himself, and pulled the file in front of him.

“It’s important,” she added, looking very serious.

“What’s with the suit? Agent Johnson…” he asked, a little flippantly, as he pulled the pen out of its sheath and looked over the forms and all the little tabs that indicated where he needed to sign.

“I just thought, with all of these changes, that I’d do my part to show I’m a real team player.”

His eyes slowly looked up at hers.

“Try not to look so disturbed,” she said, looking away for a moment. “It’s just a suit.”

Instead of sitting there with his mouth open trying to figure out what to say he quickly scrawled his signature against all the papers and then shut the file and handed it back to her.

She stared back at him for a moment at how quickly he returned the file, and the corner of her mouth caught.

“You’re not going to read-“

“No,” he said back quickly, as she finally took the file from his hand.

“Because you trust me?” she probed.

“Yes,” he said, standing up from behind his desk. “That.”

She raised her eyebrows for a moment until he stopped nodding and then she held the file down in front of her between her fingers.

“You don’t have anything else you’d like to say?”

“Nice suit?”

Biting her lip, she smiled back at him, relaxing a little. “Thanks.”

“Um, is this going to be a _thing_?”

“I think so.”

He looked her over again, now that he was standing.

“What is it?” she asked.

 _It_ was…the tie.

If he had to put his finger on something.

 _Definitely_ the tie.

It just needed a little work.

 

#

 

“What is it?” she asked.

The question puncturing the awkward silence.

She sounded a little exasperated.

It had been a full week.

Her in suits.

He saw her when he saw her.  In and out of his office.

Of course, she was doing _other_ things.

In the field.  _Secret_ _ops_.

With her field suit and probably that leather jacket and her t-shirts and not this suit which looked almost black but was really probably a charcoal grey wool?  Department store purchase?

She tipped her head towards him as they watched the screen display the most recent reports of Inhumans sightings worldwide. Dots across a map.

“It’s your tie,” he muttered.

“What about it?” she replied nonchalantly, turning to face him.

“Do you know how to tie a tie, or did you-“

“I Googled it,” she answered. “So, yes, of course I know how to do a tie.”

“Good,” he said, staring back at the screen. “I think someone should tell Google, though,” he said, gesturing towards her with his hand, “That they are misinformed.”

“You’re insulting my tie skills?” she started. “Is there anything else you have a problem with?”

“Why would I have a problem, Agent Johnson?” he said, taking the touchpad from her hand and then shutting down the display.

“I don’t know,” she asked. “Why _would_ you have a problem?”

Why couldn’t she just dress like a normal Skye person?

 “It’s just for a tie like that, you do a Four-in-Hand.”

“And that would be-“

“Because it’s a skinny tie, and not really a standard tie, but, that doesn’t surprise me either.”

“Most of the female agents don’t wear ties,” she said, crossing her arms.

“That, too.”

She glanced at the door of his office, then crooked her finger in the tie and pulled it apart slowly, sliding it down along her neck and handed it towards him.

“Okay. Show me.”

“I don’t really wear skinny ties,” he said, pursing his lips.

“Obviously,” she said, putting the tie back around her neck, sliding the satin in between her fingers. “But you can do mine?”

He glanced at the door of his office, hesitating, and then took a few steps closer to her when she looked impatient.

“I’m a little rusty,” he said quietly.  “I haven’t worn one of these in…awhile. And my hand-“

“Just walk me through the steps,” she said, starting to cross one end of the tie over the other.

“Stop,” he said, lifting his hand.  “You’re starting too short.”

She shrugged, and dropped her hands, pushed her chest out at him a little.

He looked sharply back at the door again.

Then slowly taking the end in his hand, he stepped a little closer then joggled the tie until he had the right length.

“You want it to lay as flat as possible against your-“

“Chest?” she finished for him.

He let out the long breath he’d been holding.

Was she _smirking_?

He swallowed and fixated on a button of her dress shirt.

“That’s why I picked a skinny tie. Sir.”

“Right.”

 

#

 

He wore suits.

He’d worn one on the day he entered SHIELD.

It had been his father’s and it had fit a bit irregularly, but it had made a statement.

Belonged.  Something like that.

For someone like him, it had been a kind of armor.

The habit had stuck with him.  Not just the regulation suits, but he really got into suits.  Tailoring, the right fabrics, the cuts.

“What’s up with the _jeans_?” she said, her voice carrying teasing in that last word.

“What’s wrong with jeans?” he asked, looking down at his pants, his arms raised a little, as they walked down the base corridor.

“Nothing,” she said, glancing at the dark denim. “Not your field denim, though.”

“I didn’t realize I had ‘field denim’,” he answered, handing the touchpad over to her as she looked over the status update on their op results.

“Weaver’s going to love that,” she said, stopping as she honed in on a detail on the display in her hands. “Is this an act of protest, or are you instituting casual Fridays?“ she said distractedly, as she swept over it with her fingers.

“No,” he replied, crossing his arms, then pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows when they slipped a little. “I was just off base for awhile.”

Skye was wearing her field suit.

It was kind of nice.  In a functional way.  Obviously made just for her.  Must’ve been tense out there, the way her hair was sticking to her cheek like that.

He’d seen her in a field suit before.  What was wrong with him?

She handed the touchpad back to him.

“Is this going to be a _thing_?” she asked, sliding the piece of damp hair behind her ear.

“Maybe?” he replied, a little defensively, finally pulling the device to rest against his hip.

He was taken a little aback by her smiling at him.

So he turned away and took the path in the direction of his quarters.

To change.

Into his suit.

“Mmm.”

He paused for moment to turn back towards her, and saw her swivel around where she was standing, turning in the direction of the ready room.

She looked a little flushed.

Guess the mission had been tense.

#

Two could play at this game.

Or, one could try to play at this game and then find out that there wasn’t a game and he’d just been imagining-

He knew she needed him to sign off on something big.

She could come find him.

The last half hour had been him working up a good sweat going through some routine stuff.  It was almost about that time, though, so he moved to the punching bag.

Then he heard the click of the shoes on the floor.

Sounded like heels.  Must be May.

“Hey,” he said, stopping the bag with his arms, turning around.

It was her.  In her suit.

Heels, though.

“Thought you were someone else,” he said, turning back to the bag and resuming with a set of hard blows.

He tried to make it look impressive.

She came a little closer, not interrupting, just watching.

“I’d ask you to sign these forms,” she finally said. “But you might drip on them.”

Hugging the bag so it stopped swinging, he went for the water bottle at the shelf and took a drink, then wiped his face off with the towel placed next to it.

“That better?” he asked, turning back to her, tossing the towel to the floor.

“It’s not bad.”

“You’re almost taller than me,” he said, hiding a smile, taking the pen from her hand, clicking the back of it.

One of the ones from his desk drawer.

“Almost.”

He felt a bead of sweat move down his neck and trickle below the line of his t-shirt, then watched as her eyes followed it.

She quickly handed him the folder.

Wearing a full smirk, he took the file from her slowly, and opened it.

“Ready to be back in the field?” she asked casually.

“Almost,” he answered, then he placed the folder against the wall, and held it open with his prosthetic hand while he signed the page with the other, biting on his lower lip.

“Here you go. Agent.”

Click of the pen.

Click of her heels.

As he watched her leave, he noticed the way she balanced on them.

How it changed her walk.

He hit the bag again.

#

“You’re good with this?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, looking him over briefly. “I’ll be here on coms.”

“Okay,” he went to turn away before she stopped him, with a light touch on his arm, then his wrist.

“Have someone check your field suit.”

He thought he’d done it all correctly, but, he looked down at it again, put his hands to the front.

It had been awhile.  He was still adapting to the prosthetic, even though it was life-like, it was both clumsier and more powerful.

Sometimes hard to gauge things by it.

Or the tack gear had been upgraded?  It looked the same.

“Just-“

She grabbed the harness in the front and started to adjust it for him, tugging on it to tighten it.

“Don’t worry,” he said, trying to sound reassuring, seeing through the gesture. “I’ll be fine.”

Staring at him, her hands still on his chest, he thought about how this felt strangely reversed. How many times he’d watched her go into the field, while he waited, staring out a window.

Then again, he couldn’t bring down an entire building.  He was just a guy with a robot hand.

But this one is too dangerous for Inhumans.  And she agreed.

“I don’t want you to be fine,” she begins, sounding tense. “I want you-“

He pulled her against him in a hug, the rustling of their clothes coming together, almost drowning out the whisper of her lips against his ear.

“To come back.”

“I will,” he said, swallowing, as he felt her cheek lightly brush against his.

So close. He closed his eyes.

“To me.”

His head is flooded with thoughts and images, suddenly aware of the heat of her, like a dam breaking over him.

Her breath across his mouth as she carefully pulls back to look at him makes him tighten his arms around her, holding her, and all he can feel is that damn suit.

He just wants to-

“Hey, what’s the hold up?”

They both turn to look, their faces nearly touching, looking caught.

May finishes tapping lightly against the frame of the door with her knuckle, half-leaning in.

He lets go and steps away, but she holds onto the front of his gear.

“Helping him with an adjustment,” she says, then releases him.

“Uh huh,” May says, looking between the two of them.

“I’m…adjusted,” he says with a nod at her. “Thanks.”

He walks towards May who just raises her eyebrow in a particularly unreadable way and rounds the corner to lead them down the stairs.

“I’ll be listening,” she calls after him.

If he looks back he knows she’ll be standing there in her suit, watching.

He does, anyway.

Just in case.

 

#

“We need to talk,” he said.

“About?” she asks, pouring herself her third cup of coffee for the day.

“Your ridiculous suits,” he answers quietly.

She gives him the up-down in his suit.

What?

He had them first.  _They’re_ not ridiculous.

“Suit,” she said, looking at him over the edge of her coffee cup before she takes a sip. “Only the one.”

Moving past her to get to the coffee he huffs a little and pours himself one.

“Don’t like a little of your own medicine?”

Pulling back reflexively, he frowns at her, as she blinks innocently at him, and blows across the surface of the hot liquid.

He wants to ask exactly, _exactly_ what exactly she means by that.

“What do you mean by that?” he says, narrowing his eyes. “And be specific.”

“Sure,” she says, and then takes her coffee with her, brushing past him, as he watches then follows as she gets to the bottom of the steps leading to his office.

They haven’t talked since his first mission back in the field.

This is dangerous, he can already feel it.

He kind of likes it.

His feet hit the steps after her, a little overeager as he enters the office and shuts the door behind him.

She puts the mug down on the desk and leans back against it.

“What don’t you like about my suit?”

“It’s a little confining, don’t you think? I mean, you’re a field agent.”

He sets his mug down on the nearby table and unbuttons his jacket like a reflex, puts his hands in his pants pockets.

Tries to look casual.

“You mean, you’d like me to loosen up a little?”

She puts her finger in the crook of her tie, and releases the knot until there’s a little slack.

“Is that better?”

No, it’s really not.  It’s like he’s being taunted or something.

“Guess not,” she says, reading his expression, then unbuttoning just the two top buttons.

“That should do it.”

He watches her pick up her coffee and take another drink, eyeing the touchpad balanced on the desk’s edge like she’s threatening to do some work.

“ _Phil_.”

His head jerks up at the word.

“No,” he answers, and walks over to her.

She eyes him like she’s a little unsure now, but still not willing to back down.

He gets it now. Okay. He does.

“That’s not better.”

His hand is on her tie, pulling the knot loose, as she gets a very intense look on her face.

Then it’s free and in his hand, and he sets it over the side of the chair.

She licks her bottom lip, and waits, until his fingers are on the buttons of her shirt, undoing a few more, then another, appraisingly, until there is a strip of skin exposed.

Right to where she used to leave her shirts unbuttoned.

His thumb just brushes against the skin there, and he watches her lips part.

It’s enough to get her off the desk and up against him, her mouth on his, as his hand slips beneath the fabric of her jacket, slides against the shirt at her waist.

It’s not enough.

Then she’s pulling against his tie, planting solid kisses on his lips, as she goes for the buttons on his shirt.

His hands slide down to her hips, over the soft wool fabric and he lifts her just a little, to get her settled back on the edge of his desk.

Her fingers are on the collar of his undershirt, and she lets out a frustrated sigh and then catches at his lower lip with her teeth, yanking the bottom of his shirts free from his slacks.

Then her fingers are gripping his torso, pressing into his ribcage as he kisses her hard against the contact, insinuates himself between her thighs as she makes more room for him, feeling her hand guiding against the middle of his back.

He’s been craving this.  Thinking about her in that suit, hidden underneath it. 

Touching her.  Taking it for granted.

“ _Skye_. _”_

She freezes for a moment and they breathe, looking at each other.

It’s not her name anymore.  But it is.

Like this, he can’t imagine calling her anything else.  He hasn’t used it since-

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” she says, her fingers cupping his face.

“You,” she continues, touching her thumb against his lower lip, then draws those same fingers down his neck, following them with her lips. “In your suits.”

“You should get me out of this suit,” he groans, closing his eyes, pressing his fingers into the wool on her thighs.

“Then I’ll return the favor.”


End file.
